


A Quick In

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft doesn't have time for elaborate setups - he needs to get Sherlock out of Serbia in a hurry. There's only one option...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quick In

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from...
> 
> Just in case you're not already aware (and why would you be) former Serbian warlord General Arkady Dragutin (as featured in "Air Force One Is Down") looks like this:  
> 
> 
>   
>   
> [[source](http://gravesdiggers.tumblr.com/post/28113689400/rupert-graves-as-dragutin-in-air-force-one-is)]

Mycroft had gone over every possible option - twice - but there was no getting away from the final conclusion: if he was going to get Sherlock out of Serbia in the next 24 hours he would have to ask DI Lestrade to help.

And there was an excellent chance that all three of them wouldn't make it out alive.

"Sir? DI Lestrade is here."

"Thank you. Please show him in."

The door opened and Lestrade shuffled through it with his customary reluctance. Like a lot of policemen he had a deep mistrust of the secret services and their dealings so far had given him a particular mistrust of Mycroft.

This little enterprise was not going to improve matters.

"Please sit down, Lestrade. This isn't a simple request."

Lestrade's eyebrows lifted but he refrained from comment and took a seat as instructed.

"One of my most valuable assets has been captured by a splinter militia group in the Balkans and his life is in imminent danger. We need to perform a swift but discreet extraction."

"And you need me because...?"

Mycroft paused. No, there really was no other way.

"Because the quickest way to obtain access to him is to show up on their doorstep with you."

Lestrade opened his mouth, closed it again, frowned and then said "He's in Serbia, isn't he?"

Mycroft was genuinely surprised. He knew Lestrade was far from stupid but he hadn't reckoned on that level of perception.

"Yes."

"You need me 'cause I look like that Dragutin bloke and he's not likely to co-operate."

" _Very_ unlikely considering he's dead."

"What? I thought he was in prison in The Hague?"

"As you are meant to, along with the rest of the world. However I can assure you he is quite dead. In the near future the news will be released that he died of natural causes, a heart attack or some such, but for now very few people are aware he is already deceased - which is very fortunate for my plan."

"Which is?"

"I show up with General Dragutin - or rather, with you - having helped him make a daring escape from prison. This immediately wins me the trust of the Serbs and grants me access to the prisoner."

"We're just going to stroll into a Serbian stronghold, find your bloke and carry him out again?"

"An over-simplification but broadly speaking yes. I'm hopeful that my asset will not require carrying but contingencies have been made."

Lestrade rubbed his chin and pronounced, "You're out of your fucking mind."

"What I am out of, Lestrade, is options. Trust me - this is absolutely the last resort or else I would not even suggest it. Ordinarily I would have time to build up relationships and exploit contacts to work my way in but I'm afraid we just don't have that luxury in this case."

"He's important, then? This asset of yours?"

"Very. The lives of thousands could depend on his retrieval." _Not to mention my own well-being..._

"Right… You do know I don't speak a word of Serbian?"

"I'll do all the talking."

"Won't that be a bit suspicious?"

"No. You'll be unable to speak."

"Because?"

"...Because the General will have been injured in his escape."

Lestrade chuckled. "This just gets better and better."

"I should also give you fair warning that if it comes to a choice between your life and that of the asset, I will choose his without a moment's hesitation." _Though not without considerable regret..._

"Yeah, I thought so… Where's the outfit?"

"Sorry?"

"Dragutin's togs. I'm guessing it'll be some prison uniform or such."

"You'll do it?"

"Don't give me that. You knew I would as soon as you told me other people were at risk - but thanks for humouring me with an explanation."

Mycroft pressed the button on his intercom. "Anthea - please bring in the General's uniform."

Lestrade started unbuttoning his shirt. "You are _so_ going to owe me for this."

_You have no idea…_ Mycroft thought. _At least I'll get to enjoy the next five minutes..._

* * *

 

If there hadn't been so much at stake Mycroft would have found it deeply amusing to see how quickly he was accepted, not just as a comrade but a _hero_ , for his part in assisting Arkady Dragutin's escape.

Lestrade's uncanny resemblance certainly helped. They'd only had to apply a few fake scars and tattoos to complete the physical deception.

Any doubts as to Lestrade's ability to fake the man's persona had been removed by the expediency of knocking him out on the plane. Mycroft had let him believe as long as possible that they were going to fake an injury to his jaw but the simplest thing by far was to totally incapacitate him and then make him up as if he'd suffered a head wound.

Once inside they'd taken "Dragutin" to a room so he could be looked at by a doctor - who Mycroft had also brought - and Mycroft had slipped away to the bowels of the main building to find their other, less favoured "guest".

A short time later he was helping Sherlock slowly limp up the stairs.

"Just going to walk out, are we?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing so… pedestrian." Mycroft couldn't resist the pun. "I have transport coming for the general. We'll hide you in the back with him"

"The gener-- Oh God, you brought _Lestrade_?"

"I needed a quick 'in' - he was it. You didn't leave me with a lot of options."

"And how did he react to the news I'm not dead?"

"I didn't tell him. You are an unnamed asset - so keep your head down when he wakes up."

"You knocked him out? And just how much did you molest him while you had the chance?"

Mycroft didn't waste breath denying his attraction. "Not at all - there wasn't time."

"Shame - you're not likely to get another chance after this."

_Yes, thank you. I'm aware of that..._ "We all have to make sacrifices, Sherlock..."

* * *

The truck arrived. General Dragutin was carefully loaded onto it and twenty minutes later they were bouncing down the road towards a waiting plane.

There were a few groans from their patient as the drug wore off and then, "<Where am I?>"

Mycroft smiled. So that was why Lestrade had borrowed his Serbian dictionary. A few emergency phrases - cunning. The man might make a decent operative after all.

"Your pronunciation is terrible but fortunately no-one here will correct you. We're on our way to the airfield. Mission accomplished."

Lestrade let out a sigh of relief. "You complete bastard. You never said anything about knocking me out."

"I do apologise - it was the safest course of action."

"For you maybe." Lestrade sat up groggily and swung his legs over the side of the stretcher. "God, I could kill for a fag."

Mycroft took out a packet he had obtained in the compound and handed it over. "Here." He took out his lighter as Lestrade extracted a cigarette and held up the flame for him.

Lestrade had only taken a few drags when the man sitting opposite him, who must be the retrieved asset judging by the state of him, reached across, took the cigarette from Lestrade's lips and placed it between his own. He muttered something in guttural Serbian.

"What'd he say?" Lestrade asked.

"He says those things will kill you. I believe it's his way of saying thank you."

"By nicking my fags? He must have gone to the same charm school as Sherlock did." Lestrade grunted out a laugh but his face fell again when he remembered his company. "Oh, sorry, Mycroft. I didn't..."

"It's fine. I believe you're not far wrong in your assessment."

"<Oh, just kiss him,>" Sherlock growled.

Mycroft took the opportunity of a particularly high bounce from a pothole to firmly kick his brother in the shin...

* * *

 

_Six months later…_

Mycroft took off his overcoat, hung it up and made his way upstairs.

"Greg? I'm home. What was this surprise you said you had for me?"

He pushed open the bedroom door.

"Oh…"

Greg wasn't waiting for him. "Arkady Dragutin" was.

Mycroft found himself slammed up against the wall with one arm shoved firmly, but not painfully, up his back.

Greg's - or was that "Arkady's" - breath was hot against the back of his neck. "You shouldn't have let me keep the uniform."

"I'm rather glad I did."

"Thought you might be... I hope you're ready for a good _hard_ interrogation. Mr Holmes."

"You'll get nothing out of me."

"Suits me. I'm more interested in what I can get _into_ you."

Mycroft allowed himself to be thrown across the room onto the large bed. This was going to be fun.

He fervently hoped that Greg wasn't looking for a _quick_ 'in'...


End file.
